


Sweets For My Sweet

by Tea_and_Sympathy



Category: History Boys (2006), History Boys - All Media Types, History Boys - Bennett
Genre: A Three Way Valentine, Excessive Sweet Consumption, Fluff, Friendship, Humor, In Their Own Unique Ways, Love, M/M, One Shot, Relationship(s), Romance, Three boys being kind to each other, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff, no not like that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:01:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29385972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tea_and_Sympathy/pseuds/Tea_and_Sympathy
Summary: “D’you get any Valentines, Pos?”, Dakin asked, slinging his bag on the table and slouching down in the seat opposite. It was a dreary February afternoon, and there was really nothing to do but hang around in the dinner hall and make a nuisance of himself.
Relationships: David Posner/Donald Scripps, Stuart Dakin/David Posner, Stuart Dakin/Donald Scripps
Comments: 18
Kudos: 12





	Sweets For My Sweet

**Author's Note:**

> A sweet treat for Valentine's Day. I'm as bah humbug about Valentine's Day as I am about Christmas. Can you tell?
> 
> I imagine this is the February of the Upper Sixth. Before A Levels. Before our Thomas turned up to complicate matters.

“D’you get any Valentines, Pos?”, Dakin asked, slinging his bag on the table and slouching down in the seat opposite. It was a dreary February afternoon, and there was really nothing to do but hang around in the dinner hall and make a nuisance of himself—killing time before football practise. A passing dinner lady told him to get his filthy bag off the table—now. He blew her a kiss and did as he was told. 

“None of your business”, Posner replied, poking half-heartedly at the skin forming on his custard. 

Dakin scraped his chair on the floor and leant into him as though he scented blood. “Yeah, but did you?”, he asked. 

“Did _you_?”, countered Posner. 

“No! It’s girly nonsense.” 

“You wouldn’t think it was nonsense if you’d got one—the whole world would know about it.” 

Dakin threw himself back in his chair in defeat. “Fuck off”, he said, “You didn’t either.” 

“I did, as a matter of fact.” Posner lifted his head from his congealing pudding and looked Dakin in the eye. 

“You never. Who from?”, said Dakin. 

“I don’t know, it’s meant to be a secret, isn’t it? I found it in my coat at break.” Posner examined Dakin’s face for a few moments, before saying, “Don’t worry, I’m not imagining it’s you.” 

“Good. ‘Cos it’s not.” 

“I know that! It’s probably someone taking the piss.” Posner’s face fell, and he cupped his chin in his hand, wearily. “Oh, God, is it you taking the piss, Dakin?”, he asked. 

“No. Do you think I’m that mean?” 

“No. I suppose not”, said Posner, and went back to prodding at his custard. “Why is it this colour?”, he said, “Isn’t custard meant to be yellow? Why is it pink? It’s not pink flavour”. 

“It’s not the custard you want to worry about, it’s the Spotted Dick underneath.” 

“Oh, how we laughed. Dakin—you’re hilarious”, said Posner, with little trace of mirth. 

“Let’s have a look at it then.” 

“The Spotted Dick?” 

“No, plonker, the Valentine. Let’s have a shufti” 

“No” 

“Go on” 

“Nope” 

“Pleeeeeease” 

“Na” 

“Pretty please, Davey” 

“Yuck, don’t call me that. Oh, alright. But don’t...” 

“What?” 

“Whatever you’re thinking of doing, just don’t.” 

“Would I?” 

“Yes, you fucking would.” 

“I’m all for your having a secret admirer, it lets me off the hook” 

“You’re not on a hook. _I_ let you off the hook. There is no hook! May I remind you that _you_ came to sit with _me_ —presumably because you wanted _my_ company.” 

“Touché”, said Dakin, grinning. “You are good company, Pos. Maybe it’s... Shock!... Horror!... A Girl! Maybe she got someone to sneak it in.” 

“Well, poor her then. Unrequited love is awful.” 

“Yeah... You could give it a go, though—with a girl. How do you know you don’t like it if you haven’t tried?” 

“I could say the same to you, Stuart… sweetie.” 

“What’s that meant to mean?” 

“Nothing. But, unlike some people, I know who I am... I knew you’d take the piss.” 

“I’m not taking the piss, really. Sorry, I’m just curious. Aren’t you curious?” 

“Nosy, more like”, said Posner. His coat was hanging on the back of his chair, and he turned and fished around in the inside pocket, saying, “Alright, it’s a bit odd...there was this little card...” He put a small white card bearing a hand-drawn heart on the table. “And… drum roll, please.” Dakin obliged by drumming his fingers on the table enthusiastically. Posner laughed and put something else down. “Ta dah! A packet of fruit pastilles!” 

“Fruit pastilles? Bloody hell, last of the big spenders. What does the card say?” 

Posner picked it up and read it—with ceremony. “It says, _I’d like to_ _be your second favourite Valentine._ And there’s some kisses—three, to be precise”. 

“What the hell does that mean?” 

“Haven’t the foggiest. But it’s the nicest Valentine I’ve ever had.” 

“It’s the only Valentine you’ve ever had. Giz one.” 

“No, get your own.” 

“Go on.” Dakin snatched the packet and opened it, holding it out of Posner’s scrabbling reach. “Ooh...”, said Dakin, “Jackpot—first one’s a black”. 

“Dakin! They’re mine, and blacks are my favourite too.” 

Dakin put the packet back on the table. “Keep your hair on”, he said, “Second one’s a black too”. 

Posner stuck out his tongue and took the second sweet. “Oh”, he said, “And the third one. That’s odd. You never get that, do you?” He unfurled the foil a little further. “And the fourth one… hold on.” He took off what remained of the wrapper and carefully unwrapped the foil, laying it flat to reveal all the sweets displayed like gems on a silver platter. “Oh my God”, he said, “It’s all black one end and all yellow the other… yellow is my second favourite... how?” 

Dakin picked up the, now ripped, wrapper and peered at it. “It looks like someone took several tubes apart and put them back together to make it—the wrapper’s been glued. And in the middle… you’ve got a black and a yellow all nestled up together—sweet!” He watched Posner, who was staring, dumbstruck, at the sweets. “Say something, Pos”, he said. 

“I don’t know what to say. Who is it? Who would—” 

“—Someone with toothache, I should think. That’s a lot of fruit pastilles to get through.” 

“It’s lovely isn’t it? Someone did this... for me.” He looked up at Dakin with a suspicious expression. 

“Don’t look at me like that”, Dakin said. “It’s not me. That would be a lot of effort for a joke—I’m too lazy for that. Someone really likes you.” 

“They do, don’t they?” 

“Don’t look so surprised. You...” 

“What?” 

Dakin shrugged. He said, “You... Look, just ‘cos I didn’t... don’t... doesn’t mean—” 

“—What? Bloody hell, Dakin, what? You’re making me nervous.” 

“Just... you should think more of yourself. Someone went to a lot of effort because they think you’re worth it”. Dakin smiled. “You are worth the effort, Pos”, he said. 

“Oh... am I? Thank you. Why are you being nice to me? I don’t trust it.” 

“Shut up. I just think whoever did it wants you to know that, that’s all. Give me another one.” 

“Okay, just one. I want to keep these two—the two in the middle—one yellow, one black” 

“You poor, romantic fool, you. You don’t even know who it is.” 

“No... but I like it, it’s nice. I want to keep them to remind myself someone thinks I’m worth the effort.” And, with that, he carefully rolled up the middle two sweets in the foil and twisted the ends to make a single, silvery bon-bon. He gave Dakin a last sweet, popped one in his own mouth, and shovelled the rest into his coat pocket. 

Dakin glanced over Posner’s head at the huge dinner hall clock above the door and saw Scripps walking in. He was peering anxiously around as though looking for someone, but smiled and raised a hand when he saw Dakin. 

“Shit. I’m meant to be at practise” said Dakin, standing up quickly, and grabbing his bag. “Scripps, over here”, he called. Posner craned his neck around and smiled and waved at Scripps’ coming and Dakin’s going. Dakin bounded towards Scripps and met him halfway across the hall. 

“You’re in a tearing hurry to leave. Is it something I did?”, said Scripps. 

“Yeah...no... not really”, said Dakin, pressing something into Scripps' hand, and curling his fingers around it. Scripps frowned and opened his hand again with trepidation. He stared down at his open palm, on which rested a sweet, sticky, lemony jewel—he blushed to the roots of his hair. 

Dakin laughed and shoved him in Posner’s direction. He said, “A yellow one—your favourite—don’t say I never give you anything”. 

Scripps said, "You haven't—?" 

"—I wouldn't... would I?" 

Scripps gave him a rueful smile and shook his head before making his way over to Posner. 

“Scrippsy?”, said Posner, “Why is this custard pink? Isn’t it meant to be yellow?” 

“I don’t know, Pos”, said Scripps, as he sat down, “There’s no accounting for taste, is there?” 

**Author's Note:**

> Q: How many packets of fruit pastilles do you need to buy to do this? 
> 
> A: 4 (approx) 
> 
> Supplementary Q: Does the author have two fruit pastilles wrapped in foil, somewhere in a keepsake box? 
> 
> A: You might very well think that; I couldn't possibly comment.


End file.
